


I Just Wanna Dance With You

by doctorbuffypotterlock79



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: F/F, Lesbian AU, Mild Angst, Strippers & Strip Clubs, hustlers au, implied smut/sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorbuffypotterlock79/pseuds/doctorbuffypotterlock79
Summary: Brooke and Vanessa work at the same strip club, and Brooke takes Vanessa under her wing to help her out. But when business at the club slows and Vanessa desperately needs money,  they resort to a risky scam to stay afloat.(Hustlers au)
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 32
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thackeryisatop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thackeryisatop/gifts), [Ortega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ortega/gifts).



> Hustlers au is here! I honestly came very close to writing this last year, but decided to do Mateo’s Eight instead. It was really fun to finally take this on, and there are a lot of people to thank for this one! First off, thanks to icametoseethecat for posting about this idea, and then to Ortega for nominating that I write it. They were both super encouraging and open of me taking on the idea, and I really appreciate it. Also, thank you so much to Writ for betaing and supporting me with all of this, especially because this fic is so different from what I normally write. 
> 
> I’ll be honest here: writing smut is not my thing, so there WILL NOT be any explicit sexual content in this. I wanted the sexier aspects to be vague/implied and just parts of the overall vibe. This also does differ from the movie a bit—I streamlined certain parts of the plot and removed others entirely, so it won’t follow it exactly. Regardless, you don’t need to know the movie to read this. I really hope you enjoy, and I’d appreciate any feedback you have. I’ll have the second part out as quick as I can with school starting soon. 
> 
> Title from Gimme More by Britney Spears.

Every night, Vanessa leaves A’keria and Silky in the noisy dressing room, settles herself among half-drunk business men that are sleaze wrapped in suits, and watches her. 

Every eye in the place stays locked on the stage as Britney Spears trickles over the speakers and she emerges in a glittery red panty set that matches her lips perfectly, long legs encased in fishnets that make them even longer, show off the beauty beneath those thin strands of lace. She flips her blonde hair and drops into a split that makes the men cheer, bills fluttering like confetti. 

The dim stage lights brighten in the face of someone worth watching, casting a golden glow as the woman grips the pole and spins herself around. Vanessa watches with the rest of the men, jealousy curling in her stomach as they throw fresh-from-the-ATM bills stamped with double digits and pictures of old men who were just as rich as they are. Bills they don’t give Vanessa. 

The woman calls herself Destiny, though Vanessa knows it’s not her real name. With the way men let their money-stained hands linger on her pale skin as they tuck bills inside her fishnets, Vanessa doesn’t blame her for using a fake name. Hell, Vanessa uses a fake name, and she’s nowhere near as popular. 

Destiny leaves the stage, blowing kisses to the men still cheering. She always heads to the roof of the club in between her performances and sessions in the private rooms, and tonight, Vanessa follows, chasing that magic and mystery of her, wanting tonight to be the night she finds out more. 

Destiny gazes out at the city, looking more like a person out here than she does inside, where the stage makes her a goddess. In the night air, you could almost believe she’s human. Then that eyebrow raises as she takes in Vanessa, and she’s an angel again. 

“Where’s your coat?” Destiny asks. 

“Left it inside.” Vanessa shivers as chilly air hits her. 

“Here.” Destiny opens up her coat, a massive faux fur thing big enough for both of them. 

Vanessa slips inside, her arm searing where it presses against Destiny’s. She hopes Destiny can’t feel her heart racing. Destiny has always seemed untouchable, so effortlessly beautiful that it’s slightly intimidating, especially with how she finishes her makeup before anyone else and returns with fistfuls of cash. She’s a pro, an idol to the newer girls like Vanessa, and as much as Vanessa has wanted to talk to her, get close to her, she hasn’t quite worked up the nerve. But she has the courage now, and Destiny’s face is warm and kind as she huddles beside Vanessa. 

“Did you like what you saw?” 

“What?” Vanessa’s face warms, because even though A’keria and Silky tease her every night and warned her that Destiny would catch her spying eventually, she didn’t really believe them. 

Red lips pull into a wicked smile. “Did you like what you saw? I always see you out there with your mouth wide open, you better hope no flies come in—“ 

“My mouth wasn’t open that wide,” Vanessa protests feebly. 

“Uh-huh.” Destiny winks, actually winks, and Vanessa has to grip the edge of the building to stay upright. 

“How do you do it?” She blurts. 

“Do what?” 

Vanessa sighs. “You make more in one number than I do all weekend. How do you do it?” 

Vanessa needs that money, needs it more than she’d care anyone to know. And no matter how much she flips her hair and winks and smiles, the money just doesn’t come the way it does for Destiny. Vanessa wants to be bitter, but she can’t deny how much Destiny deserves what she gets. Vanessa just doesn’t understand why she can’t get it too, why bills fly for Destiny but have to be wrestled from sweaty hands for her. 

Destiny bites her lip, lipstick so perfect it doesn’t even get messed up. “Vanjie, right?” 

Vanessa nods. “My real name is Vanessa.” She's not sure why she says it. Maybe because underneath that perfect makeup, she knows Destiny is trustworthy somehow. Or maybe because she just wants this woman to know her, know the real person she is beyond her makeup and boots and lacy gloves.

“Vanessa,” Destiny repeats, and the name seems more special on her lips. “To answer your question, I don’t know how I do it. It helps if you treat them like friends, I guess.” 

Vanessa nods. It seems so simple, but she hasn’t mastered it, can’t think of clients as anything but clients whose money she needs to help her mom. “I wish I could,” she mutters. 

Destiny sighs. “Look, you’re beautiful, Vanessa,” she says, and Vanessa’s stomach leaps. “And that’s what they want--an escape with a beautiful girl. They want the fun, and that’s what you have to give, not the reminder that you’re gonna pay your bills with their tips.” 

Vanessa’s heart sinks. Destiny is right. 

She looks at Vanessa with the brightest green eyes Vanessa’s ever seen, smooth yet sharp like pieces of sea glass. They’re a part of her you can’t get from the stage, something you can only see if you’re close enough to her. The real person, not the illusion. “I’ll tell you what. Can you come here early tomorrow?” 

Vanessa nods.

Destiny smiles, and that smile, like everything else, lures Vanessa in. “Good. I’ll teach you.”

“Thanks, Des—“ 

“And call me Brooke.” 

—-

Vanessa doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into when she walks into the club early the next night. It’s strange to be here during the day, the overhead lights revealing scuffs in the tables and the straws and trash littering the sticky floor. The illusion is gone, and the club is just a cold room rather than the warm fantasy it promises at night. 

Brooke is in leggings and a white tank top that shows off the firm muscles peeking beneath her skin. She’s softer somehow, gentler without the hard rhinestones and blinding glitter she’s usually armored in. 

“Hey, Vanessa,” Brooke says. 

“Hey.”

“You ready?”

Vanessa nods firmly. “There won’t be a test or anything after, right? I’m not so good at tests.”

“There might be.” Brooke gives a mischievous wink and points to a black chair right before the stage. “Sit there. I’m gonna do one of my routines for you. Watch me, okay? Watch how I dance just for you, like me and you are the only ones here.”

“Me and you _are_ the only ones here.” Vanessa grins, swallowing hard against the idea of them being alone. 

Brooke rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s just us here now, and you want every client to feel like it’s just you and them.”

Vanessa nods, and then Brooke takes the stage. She shakes out her arms and stretches her long legs, grips the pole, and begins. 

The change is jarring--she’s not Brooke anymore; she’s Destiny, both the person and the thing itself, the thing mesmerizing men and making them want to spend hundreds on her, because she’s their destiny. She’s equal parts danger and dangerous, a lit cigarette just begging you to take hold and breathe her in, even if you know it’s wrong. 

Watching her this close, Vanessa is mesmerized. If she had money, she would throw every cent on the stage, but it’s more than that. It’s the way each movement is light and delicate, the way she holds you in her gaze and smiles right at you, the way she rests a hand on Vanessa’s shoulder and makes her shiver. Vanessa wants to reach out and touch her, pull her into bed and sleep beside her, all because of this dance. 

“Now, these are moves for the pole, okay?” Brooke’s voice snaps Vanessa out of her dream. 

She does her best to focus as Brooke shows her the different grips and spins, coaching her to smile and shake her hair through them all. 

“What if I don’t have muscles?” Vanessa asks, pointing to her arms. They’re not flabby, but there’s no way in hell she can pull herself up like Brooke. 

“You have muscles!” Brooke insists. 

“I don’t.” 

Suddenly Brooke’s hand is in hers, pulling her onstage. “Come on, you try,” Brooke coaxes. “I’ll spot you. You won’t fall, I promise.” The danger is gone and she’s just Brooke now, and Vanessa trusts the promise even if it might burn her later.

She grips the pole and pulls herself up, following Brooke’s orders to point her toes and smile as she spins around, and she’s flying. She’s a fairy flying through the air, drunk on Brooke’s smile and flashing her own to the invisible crowd. 

With a burst of courage, Vanessa climbs, shimmying and twisting her way up, muscles burning. Brooke’s hands are waiting below, strong and sturdy and just waiting to catch her, and some part of Vanessa wants to fall and let those hands do what they’re waiting for. Let those hands touch her and hold her tight. But she also wants to make Brooke proud, show her she can do this, and Vanessa pulls herself up with a massive grunt. 

“Lose the grunt at the end and you’re golden,” Brooke praises as Vanessa slides down, steadying hands cupping Vanessa’s hips and making her heart skip a beat. 

“Will do.” They perch themselves on the edge of the stage, and Vanessa watches her legs swing a much shorter arc than Brooke’s and can’t help but smile. 

“Were you at any clubs before this?” Brooke asks. 

“No. This is my first … y’know … job.”

Brooke nods. 

“I never really planned on this,” Vanessa continues. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it! I just--I have a day job, and my mom is sick and outta work, so she lost her work insurance, and I started doing this to get more money to cover her treatments.”

“I get it,” Brooke says. “Sorry to hear about your mom.”

“Thanks.” Vanessa sighs. She’s glad Brooke didn’t pry, because she’s sick of talking about her mom’s illness, sick of thinking about it and how it might take her mom away from her. She wants to focus on Brooke instead, because Brooke takes the weight of it all off Vanessa’s shoulders somehow. “What about you? You’ve been here a while, right?”

“You saying I look old?” Brooke teases.

“No, no! Just that you’re so good,” Vanessa says quickly. 

“Nice save.” Brooke smiles, though it quickly turns to a frown. “I, uh, I used to dance with the city ballet. You hit 25 in ballet, and you’re basically ancient. I left the company five years ago and decided to keep dancing, make some good money.”

Vanessa nods, because Brooke’s toned muscles and delicate grace make sense now, another piece of the puzzle that adds up to her. And this close to Brooke, intoxicated by her perfume and the soft curves of her shoulder, Vanessa wants to find more pieces. 

“Think we can do this again tomorrow?” Vanessa asks. 

Brooke grins. “You got it.”

—-

Nina marches over to Brooke’s station like a woman on a mission. She’s the only decent one of the club’s owners, and would happily take things over herself if she could get the other owners to give up control. She’s a mother to the girls, always ready with a listening ear, and the click of her heels over the tile is comforting, a sound everyone counts on when they need help. 

“Am I hearing things, or have you made a friend?” 

Brooke sighs. “Well ...“

“Brooke made a friend! Kam, Pri, Brooke made a friend!” 

Kameron and Priyanka crowd around Brooke’s station, whispering in excitement. Brooke groans and hides her face in her hands. 

“A friend, and she’s not even imaginary?” Priyanka squeals. “I’m so proud of you, Brookie!”

“I didn’t think I’d see the day you made friends besides us,” Kameron says. 

“You’re one to talk,” Brooke shoots back. “Have you texted little Miss Asia yet—“

“Yeah, you never shut up about her,” Priyanka says.

“That’s enough of that.” Kameron quickly returns to her makeup, and Priyanka follows, using the opportunity to make fun of Kameron instead. 

Brooke sighs, finally facing Nina’s broad grin. “Look, I think Vanessa’s nice. She—she reminds me of myself, when I started. Figured I’d give her some tips, look out for her.” 

“You mean look _at_ her.” 

“Nina,” Brooke whines. She’s had her eye on Vanessa since she started here, she’ll admit that. Vanessa is absolutely beautiful, one of the most beautiful women Brooke’s ever seen. There’s real joy and passion in her, the kind you can’t teach, can’t really find in many people. Vanessa is a breath of fresh air over dirty money and sickly-sweet liquor, and Brooke’s had more fun with her than she has in a while. She wants to help Vanessa, make sure she keeps herself safe from the darker aspects of the club and uses the lighter parts to her advantage. Make sure she doesn’t lose that joy. Brooke’s just helping, that’s all.

“I’m just teasing, Brooke,” Nina says fondly, rolling her eyes. “It’s good that you’re getting to know her. She seems great, from what I’ve seen.” 

“She is.” Vanessa really is, and Brooke can’t help but marvel at how quickly she picked up Brooke’s steps, how beautiful and free she is in her routines. 

Not that Brooke has feelings for her or anything. She’s just helping.

\---

Brooke decides to give Vanessa the lowdown at their next practice. Her knowledge of clients is based on years of collecting information, from each leather wallet pulled from a tailored suit to each set of eyes that seek to own her. She knows how things at the club work, and when you know the rules, you can play the game. 

“There are three levels of clients,” she explains to Vanessa. “The ones at the bottom are so desperate for power, to be on top, that they’ll break out hundreds if you smile. Guys in the middle are... in the middle. They don’t do much one way or another.”

Vanessa nods, eyes wide as she waits for the rest. Brooke can’t help the thrill in her heart at having Vanessa’s eyes on nothing but her, soaking in her every word. Part of Brooke has always liked the thrill and rush of attention, whether on a fancy theatre stage in silk or a sticky club stage in fishnets. But the thrill is that more intense and intoxicating in the form of Vanessa, in the form of letting someone close to her, close enough to know her name and not the persona she creates. 

“The ones on top—they’re the ones who blow thousands a night and it doesn’t even make a dent. They have a private entrance, but even if they got caught, they’d never see the consequences. They want attention, want you to show off for them. They'll treat you like dirt but pay you like you're gold, and you can milk them for every cent they’re worth. That’s where the real money is.”

Brooke has found her success, found a nice apartment with more than enough space for her and her cats, found security in her life, all from the bills those men in the top tier slide her way. With practice, Vanessa can get that same success. 

Vanessa nods again. “I think I always get the middle guys. They all look the same. Like someone copy-pasted them or somethin’.”

Brooke snorts loudly, a far cry from the gentle laughs she does for her clients. This is her real laugh, one that hardly anyone can wrestle from her. 

“Hey,” Vanessa says suddenly, “do you have time to get coffee? Then we can talk somewhere nicer than this.”

Brooke just smiles. 

\---

The more Vanessa watches Brooke, the more tiny signs of the real her poke through her mask of makeup and confidence. There’s the way she starts chewing on a cuticle, before looking at her manicured black nails and immediately stopping, or how she spills some coffee over the edge of her mug after an enthusiastic nod. It’s like getting a peek behind the curtain, and Vanessa is going to treasure each glimpse she can get. 

It’s nice to be here and just talk to Brooke, free of dazzling lights. At the club, there’s idle gossip in the dressing room, and it’s fun, but it’s not personal. It’s a way to pass the time between numbers and client sessions, to laugh before they go out there. But now she gets to just talk to Brooke without interruptions, her heart racing with each of Brooke’s smiles. 

“You said you had another job, right?” Brooke asks. 

Vanessa nods. 

“So, what do you do?”

“I do makeup at a department store. I like it, you know? Getting to talk to people, make them feel good.” Vanessa smiles to herself at the thought of all the clients that have sat in her makeup chair, their grins at how confident they felt after her help. “The pay is okay, but not enough for things like medical bills.”

“I get it,” Brooke says. “I’m glad you like it, though.”

“Yeah. Once I get enough money here, I should be good with just that job.” Vanessa pauses, glancing over the strange look of sadness on Brooke’s face that quickly disappears. Is Brooke sad about the idea of her leaving, or something else? Brooke doesn’t talk too much about herself, but Vanessa wants to know more about the old Brooke that used to dance, and maybe she’ll talk. “Did you have any jobs besides ballet?”

“No.” Brooke takes a sip of coffee. “I went right from that to this, and the pay’s been enough that I don’t need anything else. Don’t really know what I’d do anyway.”

Brooke still seems a little upset, and Vanessa decides not to press anymore. She really can’t see Brooke doing anything else, if she’s being honest. There’s just something about the way she moves, like the whole world aligns and stops for a moment when she’s dancing. It’s magical, and Vanessa’s heart leaps just at the thought. She changes the conversation to the cat she’s thinking of getting, and things are okay.

\---

It’s a week later that Vanessa gets her first top-tier client. From what Brooke’s taught her, Vanessa is getting better at recognizing them. Every inch of their outfit is expensive, from coat to shoes. Their walk is firm and confident like they own the place. And they hold out hundreds with the casual air of a dollar bill. 

She walks past the hall’s dim red floor lights, each one illuminating a plain black door. Vanessa takes a breath before the room she’s using and reminds herself to be like Brooke, to give the man attention, like he’s the only one she’s doing this for, even if she’s already done it tonight. Vanessa walks in, and she walks out with over a thousand dollars. 

Rinse and repeat.

\---

“It’s working, huh?”

Vanessa looks up from the stack of bills she’s struggling to stuff into her knee-high black boots. Brooke stands next to her, grinning smugly, while Brooke’s friend--Vanessa’s pretty sure the redhead with the muscles and tattoos is Kameron--grins behind her, giving Brooke a push until she bumps into Vanessa. 

Vanessa laughs as Brooke swats Kameron away and turns back to her. “It sure is working,” Vanessa says. “Got so much money I can’t even get it in my boots.”

“Can I help?”

Vanessa nods, and then one of Brooke’s hands curves around the back of her knee, the other carefully unzipping her boot. Vanessa doesn’t breathe as the zipper slides down and Brooke delicately arranges bills around her calf, soft fingertips brushing over her skin. She’s close enough that Vanessa can smell her perfume, close enough to grab Brooke and maybe kiss her--the zipper screeches back into place, and Vanessa straightens up.

“Thanks,” Vanessa says, trying to remember how to breathe. 

“No problem.”

"Damn, Vanj," A'keria mutters, open-mouthed in the chair beside Vanessa. "Destiny needs to teach us all how to get that coin."

Silky nods, swinging her hairspray in excitement. "Miss Destiny's Stripper School. I'd sign up."

Vanessa shushes them and finishes getting ready. Brooke winks at her after she's done, and Vanessa pretends her next lap-dance is Brooke.

\---

It happens fast. 

One day, Brooke hears some news report coming from Kameron’s phone, a guy in a suit talking about _fiscal collapse_ and _crisis_ and _economy_ again and again. Say _economy_ three times, and a middle-aged white man in a business suit will appear like Beetlejuice. It’s all they ever talk about, and Brooke doesn’t think much of it, just goes to work and comes back with her usual wad of cash she had to mop off the stage floor. 

A few nights later, there are empty seats in the club. When the music stops, it’s quiet enough to hear ice cubes clinking in glasses, hear the rustle of the one or two single-digit bills they hand her. 

Brooke walks off stage in confusion. For the first time in over a year, her wad of tips is slim enough to fit in one hand. She heads straight to Nina’s office, where Nina is running a hand through her messy hair and drinking from a bottle of wine. 

“What the hell is going on, Nina?” Brooke asks. “It’s totally dead out there.”

Nina sighs. “It’s the stock market. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but stocks are down, apparently, and those Wall Street business men aren’t coming anymore.”

“Are we … we’re not gonna close, are we?” Brooke’s stomach is twisting in knots just at the thought of losing all this. The same knot that had formed when Vanessa said she would leave after she had enough money, because Vanessa has quickly become one of Brooke’s favorite parts of the club, a part she doesn’t want to lose. But she might lose it all depending on what Nina tells her. 

“No.” Nina takes another swig of wine. “We’re staying open, but your tips won’t be like they usually are. The real rich ones will still come in, but I doubt they’ll spend as much.”

“I--” Brooke shakes her head, needing to get out of here. It’s too stuffy in here, the wine burning her nose and the bright office lights burning her eyes. She runs to the roof, the coolness clearing her head and allowing some air to reach her lungs. 

What is she supposed to do now? Brooke joined the strip club because it made sense--it gave her a performing outlet without the constant body aches from ballet, a chance to use the dancing ability she had trained decades to perfect. A way to keep the thrill of performing, the love of a crowd, when she couldn’t be on a theatre stage anymore. She can’t walk away from this, try to find whatever minimum wage job will hire someone whose place of employment for the last five years can’t go on a resume. She’s wondering if she’ll have enough saved up to weather the next however-many months when the roof door slams, and hoarse sobs arise. 

Vanessa. 

Brooke immediately forgets her problems and runs to Vanessa, who’s shaking with sobs. She wants to wrap Vanessa in a hug, let her arms circle that soft skin, but she stops herself. Touch is something they do all night. They touch bills and stripper poles and men, everything washed away with the apricot soap Nina stocks the bathroom with. But if Brooke were to touch Vanessa, it would be different from touching a client. More personal. And Brooke knows she won’t erase that touch no matter how much she scrubs her hands. 

Instead, she pulls Vanessa to the edge of the building, uselessly whispering that it’s okay, even if she knows it’s not. When Vanessa is finally able to talk, she looks up at Brooke with bloodshot eyes burning with exhaustion and sorrow, and again Brooke wants to hug Vanessa and let her rest inside her arms. 

“I’m guessing you heard,” Brooke prompts. 

Vanessa nods. “What am I gonna do, Brooke?” she cries. “I was starting to make a lot of money, but it’s not enough. I--I don’t have enough to help my mom, and if she doesn’t get her meds and everything then she’ll …” A fresh sob erupts from Vanessa, and Brooke doesn’t hesitate this time. She pulls Vanessa into her arms and gently rubs her back as she cries. Vanessa is real and solid, realer than anything the club offers. She smells like coconut and Brooke wonders when she started liking that scent so much. Wonders when she started liking Vanessa so much, because she can’t deny it anymore. But Vanessa doesn’t need that now; she needs help. 

Brooke selfishly hadn’t even thought of Vanessa and her mom when she first heard the news. Now, she has to accept how bad things are, what might happen to Vanessa’s mom without the money Vanessa needs. The money she can’t get anymore. If only they could take that money that the really rich Wall Street guys still have and give it to Vanessa and the other girls somehow … 

But maybe they can. 

The wheels in Brooke’s head are spinning, weaving together a plan. It’s risky, sure, but they don’t have a choice. They all have bills to pay. Some of them have relatives to care for and medication to buy, and hell, just normal lives to live. Brooke might lose her home depending on how long this lasts. The other girls might lose theirs too, might even lose their jobs if it comes to that. And Vanessa will almost surely lose her mom. Vanessa always talks about her with such love in her eyes, with such joy in the memories of the two of them cooking or dancing together. She doesn’t deserve to lose that. Brooke has to do something. 

“Hey, Vanessa,” Brooke says gently, “I think I have an idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Vanessa begin their scam. As it brings success and brings them closer together, will the risk drive them apart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the amazing feedback on the first part! I had a lot of doubts with this fic, to be honest, and I'm so glad people are liking it! I really hope you like this last part, and I'd appreciate any feedback you have! Thank you again to Writ for being the best beta!!

The night feels different. 

Vanessa keeps trading glances with Brooke as they get ready, each stare weighted with anticipation and knowledge of tonight’s plan. 

It’s not a particularly tricky plan. Just three steps:

1\. Brooke will strut out on the floor in a red bikini, staking out the most expensive shoes, suits, and ties to find their already-drunk top-tier businessman. She’ll cozy up to the guy, they’ll share some more drinks, she’ll laugh when she needs to and lay a hand on his arm all dainty, as simple as breathing. Then she’ll ask the guy if he wants to get a room with her and her friend.

2\. Vanessa will wait at the door for Brooke, leading the man inside and onto the couch, immediately handing him a glass of the extra-potent alcohol Kameron and Priyanka whipped up in exchange for a small cut. She won’t let the cup empty more than halfway. 

3\. They’ll do whatever the client wants, charm and sex and beauty and more, and when he drunkenly surrenders his credit card, they’ll slide that limitless plastic right into their pockets. Then Silky and A’keria--who got in on things after calling Vanessa out on having a secret--will make sure the man’s car is at the private entrance to ship him off. Simple and efficient, smooth as a dance, everyone doing their part to complete the performance. 

The clients have enough money that they’ll take actual days to notice what they spent, and it will be such a small amount to them that they won’t investigate--especially not if they have to admit to spending it at a strip club. Vanessa finds that it helps, makes things easier knowing she’s not taking money from someone who needs it. It also helps that she and Brooke have agreed no one will get physically hurt. 

Some part of Vanessa knows it’s wrong, as she swipes on blush. But the other part, the part that lingers at her phone’s lock screen of her and her and her mom smiling, sees it as just a tiny evil to keep her mom alive. To help them all survive. These Wall Street people are rich enough to keep coming even during a stock market crash, still have their yachts and don’t pay taxes, so is it that much harm to take what’s just pocket change to them? Vanessa tries to convince herself it’s okay even though it still feels wrong.

Her stomach is turning as they help their first client onto the plush velvet couch and stick a drink in his hand. Brooke said this guy grabbed her until she bruised once, and that helps too--there’s less guilt in taking this man’s money when she knows he’s got a mean streak, knows that he’s hurt someone she cares about. 

Because she really does care about Brooke. Brooke is always looking out for her, bringing her coffee just because and sending her pictures of her cats and letting her talk about her mom. Brooke even came up with this whole idea just to help her.

And help her it does. 

She and Brooke move in perfect unity, their movements curving around each other easily. She trusts Brooke completely, and finds Brooke having that same trust in her, with each movement, each touch, each glance. A complete synchronization, connection, within this room, and just like on the pole, Vanessa isn’t afraid to fall. Because Brooke will catch her, bring her back up, just like she would for Brooke. 

The man not only gives them his credit card but also throws twenties at them, a green carpet at their feet, and Vanessa sighs in relief when it’s over, some of the tightness leaving her chest. They really did it, and if they can keep this up a bit longer, she can take care of her mom. 

“Brooke?” Vanessa asks when they’re safely back in the dressing room.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Brooke’s face softens, and Vanessa wants to kiss that face so bad. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad I could help.”

Vanessa nods, brushing her hand against Brooke’s so she knows how much Vanessa means her thanks. 

“Hey, do you wanna get pizza or something?” Brooke asks hopefully. “My treat--well, I guess it’s Preston’s treat. Or Greg’s. Whatever business-man name that guy has, I forgot it.”

Vanessa bursts into laughter so fierce she can barely accept the offer. 

\---

The pizza place is minutes from closing when they arrive, but the pimply teenager behind the counter just stares at them in awe, eyes fixed on Brooke’s legs in their boots and the sparkly edge of Vanessa’s black leotard beneath her coat. They could probably make off with all the greasy tables and she wouldn’t so much as blink. Vanessa gets it--hell, _she_ has that same awe around Brooke, and she knows that she herself looks damn fine. They stuff a twenty in the tip jar, and the teenager gives them two extra slices for free, oil and cheese and oregano wafting from the box as they head back outside.

“I live pretty close by,” Brooke says, “if you want to eat at my place?”

Vanessa nods, her heart skipping a beat. She knows this is just for convenience, so they don’t have to eat in the cold. She knows they’re just friends. But part of her hopes this can become more, and she can’t wait until she gets to see Brooke’s apartment and have another glimpse into her.

Brooke’s apartment is somewhere between messy and neat, dirty dishes in the sink distracting from her spotless counters and shiny floors. They settle in at the kitchen table, munching on their pizza and laughing at how the kid at the pizza place had her mouth wide open the whole time. 

“That’s how you watched my routines, you know,” Brooke teases. 

Vanessa swats at her. “Yeah, well, that’s how _you_ watched _me_ when I practiced in front of you.”

Brooke blushes, and Vanessa smiles because she didn’t even know Brooke _could_ blush like this, her cheeks beet-red. “Maybe it was,” Brooke admits. 

Just then, paws click over the floor, and two cats come running in. Brooke jumps out of her chair to greet them.

“Saved by the cat,” Vanessa mutters, though she gets up and pets them both, cooing as they purr beneath her touch. She _definitely_ needs to get that cat she’s wanted, and surely Brooke, currently cradling Henry to her chest like a baby, will come along. Vanessa steps back, only to trip over Apollo. She lets out a yelp and finds herself falling into Brooke’s strong arms, like she was so tempted to do that day of practice. Brooke’s grip tightens, steadying her, and Vanessa leans into it, lets the warmth surround her. 

“Sorry,” Brooke mumbles. 

Vanessa shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she says, heart speeding up as she gathers her courage. “Can we dance?”

“Dance?”

“Yes,” Vanessa says. “I know you got those dance moves, Miss Ballet. Let’s dance.”

Brooke’s smile is huge as she pulls Vanessa into a smooth turn over the kitchen floor, the heat of her body pressing against Vanessa as they sway gently back and forth, faint moonlight shining on them. Vanessa never wants to let go, wants to keep feeling the pulse of Brooke’s heart, keep feeling the smoothness of her hands forever. Brooke’s lips are right there, still coated with her red lipstick. Vanessa wants to kiss her so bad. Has wanted to since her first day at the club, honestly. Bravery soars through her after tonight’s success, and Vanessa stretches up as Brooke leans down, their kiss brighter and stronger than the club’s stage lights, lighter and freer than twirling around the pole. 

Vanessa pulls away with a gasp, and blushes when she sees Brooke’s eyes are as wide as saucers, looking at Vanessa like she’s seeing her for the first time. 

“That was--” Brooke starts.

“Yeah.” Vanessa throws herself back upward into another kiss. 

\---

Brooke puts her makeup on in a daze. She keeps looking at her array of bottles and brushes and checking her face in the mirror, because she doesn’t know what she has and hasn’t done yet. The only thing she knows for sure is that she kissed Vanessa. 

It’s been a few days, and they already have a coffee date set up for tomorrow, but Brooke can’t stop thinking about their slow dance in her kitchen with the cats at their feet, or how Vanessa moved to kiss her the same second Brooke had worked up the courage to kiss her too, like she’s thought of since she first saw Vanessa. 

“That’s my blush!”

Brooke looks at the little canister in her hand and realizes it’s Kameron’s, and that Kameron is looking at her in outrage. 

“Sorry,” Brooke mumbles, passing it back to her. 

“Are you okay?”

Brooke bites her lip, figuring she might as well admit it, because it will only come out eventually. 

“ _IkissedVanessa_.”

Priyanka hears the word kiss and launches herself over to Brooke and Kameron. “Did you say you kissed Vanessa?” she demands. 

Brooke nods, heat flooding her cheeks. 

“This is amazing! Can I be the flower girl at your wedding?”

“It was just a kiss, Pri.” It _was_ just a kiss, but Brooke feels something more blooming in her chest. She feels it every time she hears Vanessa laugh or cheer as she beats a new Candy Crush level, every time Vanessa rests her head against Brooke’s shoulder and lets Brooke slip an arm around her waist. It’s been a while since she’s been in a relationship, and just being around Vanessa makes Brooke happy. 

“What was just a kiss?” And there’s Nina, with superb timing. 

By the time Brooke retells everything, they all have to rush to get ready, but Brooke doesn’t mind. Especially not after Vanessa arrives and greets her with another kiss.

\---

Vanessa had taken her job at the club with a clear purpose in mind, and a relationship was not that purpose. But she can’t deny how happy Brooke makes her, how excited she is to see her every day. She likes the confident and sexy Brooke charming the world onstage as Destiny, whose lust-soaked words and brilliant smiles lure in absolutely anyone, but she also likes the soft and adorable Brooke offstage, who squealed over every cat in the shelter when Vanessa picked out Thackery and sometimes mixes up her left and right. 

Things are fun, even with the empty seats staring at her from the stage. But the rooms are where the real magic happens, and each treatment of her mom’s gets paid in full because of that magic. 

Still, it’s jarring to let that black door slam and turn her attention to the client on the velvet couch. Jarring to let his hands trace up her red and black leather corset and pretend she likes it. Jarring that she can’t show too much emotion when she looks at Brooke in her black lace, lest the client think her attention is on someone other than him and take her payment away. 

_They’ll treat you like dirt but pay you like you’re gold_ , she remembers Brooke saying, and the more clients she leads into the room, the more she sees it’s true. Most of them are vile, eyes roaming over her like she’s a stock to buy, another piece to add to their collection. Most of them don’t bother with her name, just call her _girl_ if they’re nice or worse if they’re not. But Vanessa doesn’t mind that part so much. She doesn’t want her name in their alcohol-slick mouths. 

She focuses on tiny things, like the thump of the music in her chest. The smooth black polish over Brooke’s nails. The rhinestones on her corset twinkling under the lights. And when the night is over, she gets to be with Brooke, and every bad thing is erased by her love. 

\---

“These look like hooker boots, right?” Priyanka asks, modeling the bright red leather boots climbing up her legs. 

“Do you want them to?” Brooke asks seriously.

Priyanka nods. 

“Then yes.”

Priyanka squeals, and Brooke turns back to Vanessa, avoiding Kameron and Silky and A’keria, who are roaming through the store yelling about dresses like kids let loose on a field trip. 

“You regretting this big shopping trip yet?” Vanessa asks, as A’keria curses and just saves herself from dropping her coffee on a thousand-dollar dress.

“Maybe a little.” True, this was Brooke’s idea, a little celebratory trip for them all, since the scams are going so well and everyone has loads of extra money to blow on fancy things they can usually only stare at. Brooke still thinks it’s a good idea. As long as Priyanka doesn’t hit anyone while she tries to wrestle those leather boots off her feet. 

Vanessa grins and takes her hand. “Let’s look at the coats and pretend we don’t know these clowns.” She leads Brooke past racks and racks of sparkly shoes with sky-high heels and toes pointy enough to cut; past long silk dresses that don’t even have price tags, because _if you need to ask, you can’t afford_ ; past leather handbags that cost more than any amount that would ever sit inside them. 

Vanessa’s hands run over a gray fake-fur coat, a lot like the one Brooke has. 

“It’s so soft, Brooke! Like a giant kitty!”

Brooke strokes it too, like the world’s softest cat. Vanessa’s smile is huge, and Brooke grins too. 

“Come on, I’ll buy it for you,” she says.

Vanessa’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Brooke, I--I can’t ask you to--”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” Brooke comes in closer, wraps an arm around Vanessa. “I want to buy this for you. I think you’re amazing, and I’m so proud of you, for everything, Vanessa. Let me, please.”

Vanessa nods, grinning like a fool as she tries it on, twirling around with her arms out to show the full view of the soft material making her even more beautiful than she already is. 

“A perfect fit,” Brooke says, and she kisses Vanessa without a care in the world. 

\---

Champagne fizzles happily as Brooke pours it into glasses. Her apartment glows with the string lights Vanessa almost dislocated her shoulder trying to hang up, and it feels more like home than ever. 

Vanessa grins as she sips her glass and waits for the others to arrive, and Brooke almost can’t believe this is real. Can’t believe she and Vanessa are together, that things are going this well. There’s a part of her that becomes detached from everything at the club, her mind lost behind a dull cloud of booze and thudding music and dim neon lights. When she’s with Vanessa, things come back into full color again, so bright it’s like Brooke’s seeing it for the first time. She thinks--she thinks might love Vanessa, even if it’s only been a few months. 

“Hey, Brooke?” Vanessa asks nervously. “I have a little something for you.”

Brooke’s cheeks warm up at the idea of Vanessa getting her a present, and the warmth burns as Vanessa hands her a slim gold box. Tucked inside is a simple gold chain with a tiny pointe shoe charm.

“To remind you of your twinkle toe days,” Vanessa says with a hesitant grin. 

“I love it,” Brooke says simply. 

Vanessa’s arms fly around her in a fierce hug. “Can I put it on you?”

“I’ll have to sit on the floor so you can reach,” Brooke teases, crouching down on toned legs while Vanessa’s hands brush over the back of her neck. It reminds her of putting the money in Vanessa’s boots, but it also reminds her, in some strange way, of watching Vanessa try her new moves on the pole, mesmerized by the gentle curves of her arms and legs and shoulders, ready to catch her if needed. Except now Vanessa is mesmerized, if how long it’s taking her to clasp the necklace is any indication. And it’s Brooke that’s fallen, fallen into the very hands putting her necklace on. Maybe Brooke should say it, tell Vanessa she loves her before she can overthink it--

“Guess who’s here, bitches! Now it’s a party!” Priyanka dashes in with a Monopoly set under her arm, followed by Nina and Kameron with the cupcakes, then Silky and A’keria lugging overstuffed Tupperwares. 

“What’s with the Monopoly?” Brooke asks as she lays out all the food on her big dining room table. She’s never had food spread out from one end to the other, never had enough people over to fill all the chairs, to feel like a family, and a rush of affection for everyone pools in her chest. 

“Well, with all our scamming and shit, it seemed fitting.”

Fitting it is. 

Silky insists on checking every Community Chest and Chance card herself, lest someone fake a card and try to take her hard-earned paper money. Kameron has to be reminded every time it's her turn because she's too busy playing with the cats and smiling at Asia's texts on her phone, resulting in Vanessa just hurling the dice for her and accepting a five-dollar fee for her services. Nina’s too nice (or too drunk) to remind anyone to pay her when they land on her property, while Priyanka and A’keria pass the bottle of champagne back and forth and talk about how nice it would be to live in one of the tiny red Monopoly houses. And Brooke?

Well, Brooke crushes them all. 

Maybe she’s picked something up from her clients, learned how to be ruthless and take big risks like they’re always talking about. Maybe she’s just good at games, at learning the rules of any situation and turning it into her advantage. 

“Maybe you cheated,” Vanessa says, when no one has the strength or patience for another round and just wants to shove cupcakes in their faces. 

“I didn’t cheat!”

“Cheater.” But Vanessa is smiling, and they smear frosting over each other’s lips with their kiss.

\---

The day her mom goes into remission should be the day Vanessa calls the scam off. She takes her mom home and they watch movies in their pajamas all day, smiles shining through the tear tracks on their faces. But instead of backing out of the scam the next day, she tells herself it makes sense to keep it up just a bit longer. Her mom is still out of work for a while, still has follow-up appointments and meds to pay for. And there’s no harm in saving as much as she can, period. Plus, the guilt over the scam is growing smaller and smaller by the day. Some part of her enjoys it, almost, enjoys taking money from an asshole client that tries to grab her ass and calls her names, one that throws money around while she has to do all this just for medical care. She likes sticking it to them, showing that they don’t own her. 

But the biggest reason she can’t walk away is Brooke. She really likes Brooke, might even love her, and she’s sure Brooke feels the same. But there are just too many unknowns about how things will change if they’re not working together anymore, and Vanessa wants things to stay how they are, with quiet nights eating takeout after work and shared smiles over coffee, gentle touches in the club’s dim hall and stolen kisses in the dressing room. Things are normal and calm and carefree for the first time in months, and Vanessa doesn’t want to lose it. 

They’ll be fine. They’ve made it this far, after all.

\---

They’re fine. Night after night, client after client, they’re fine. 

Until they’re not. 

Brooke is carefully smoothing out bills, her delicate hands moving like it’s second nature to her. She looks stunning in her pink sequined outfit that glitters even in the dim light, and Vanessa decides to risk a kiss, screw what the client says. Brooke smiles against her lips, then pulls away reluctantly. 

“I have to be onstage in a few minutes. Can you finish up, Ness?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” Brooke gives her a quick peck on the cheek and dashes off, and Vanessa carries out the final steps of turning the music off, refilling the alcohol pitchers, and giving the client’s card back. Only the client is oddly slumped against the couch. And his eyes don’t open when Vanessa talks to him, or when she nudges his shoulder. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

Vanessa’s heart races as she thinks of what to do. It’s probably alcohol poisoning, which means a hospital, but how can she get him there? God, she wishes Brooke were here. The hall is empty, but A’keria should be in the dressing room, ready to get the man’s car when Vanessa signals, so she throws open the door and finds Kameron and A’keria scrolling through their phones. 

“I need help! This guy, something’s wrong, he needs a hospital--”

A’keria is instantly at her side, rubbing her back soothingly. “Shh, calm down, Vanj. The guy has his own car, right?”

“Yeah, but I can’t get him there myself.”

Kameron nods. “I should be able to lift him.”

Vanessa watches helplessly, trembling all over, as Kameron’s muscles flex and she easily maneuvers the man to the private entrance. A’keria flags down his car and explains to the driver that he had too much to drink. The driver nods and says he’ll take him to a hospital, and that’s it. It hardly takes more than a minute, and Kameron is already back in the dressing room, while Vanessa is still clinging to the wall, frozen with fear.

Vanessa should be relieved. She _is_ relieved. They acted fast enough and the man should be fine. But part of her can’t lose the panic yet. All the scams so far have been simple, straightforward, successful. They’ve never had one go bad like this, and it hits her all at once that they’re really playing with fire here. The flames might be beautiful, but they can still burn.

“What if--do you think he’ll call the cops or something?” Vanessa asks A’keria. 

She shakes her head, grabs Vanessa’s trembling hands. “Probably not. Even if he does, I doubt he’ll get far with ‘I got drunk and spent too much money at a strip club’. We’ll be fine.”

Vanessa nods shakily. Brooke will be able to handle it if the man does complain. They had someone do that already, and all it took was Brooke’s high-pitched, laughter-filled reminder of how fun it all was for him to forget every complaint he ever had. They’ll get through this. 

But maybe they don’t need to do this, tempt fate, anymore. What if the guy presses charges, or the doctors can’t help him, or God, what if he dies? What if this happens again? One complaint of getting too drunk and blowing thousands at a strip club will get brushed over, but two? Even more? If it becomes a pattern, Vanessa can just see the flashing red lights, see the cops crawling over the club, destroying everything they’ve built. Things were fine when no one got hurt, when this was just an elevated money exchange, but maybe it’s better to quit while they’re ahead, so no one gets caught. 

Maybe it’s better for her to quit the club entirely. 

Vanessa thinks about it. She has a lot of money saved up, plus what her makeup job gives her. It would be enough for her and her mom, enough for them to not have to struggle anymore. And she could leave it all--the clients’ sour alcohol breath, their burning eyes, their mean words. Go back to the calmness of her makeup job, back to normal sleep hours, back to safety, like she had planned from the start.

But what about Brooke? Vanessa still wants to be with her, no matter where they’re working. But Brooke likes the thrill of all this, the rush, and Vanessa knows she won’t want to give the scam up. Vanessa doesn’t want a relationship fraught with the worry of something bad happening to Brooke because of it. She wants to be with Brooke, but she doesn’t know if she can take it if she’ll have to be up all night, hand hovering by her phone in case Brooke calls to say she’s in trouble. 

She needs to talk to Brooke. 

\---

Brooke’s stomach is twisting for all the wrong reasons. 

They’re up on the roof, cool wind refreshing after the club’s stuffy air, giving them new life. Brooke had asked Vanessa up here because she finally wanted to tell Vanessa she loves her. But Vanessa had something to say too, her lip shredded from biting it in worry, and Brooke let her go first. 

Except now she wishes she didn’t. 

“You … you’re gonna leave the club?” Brooke asks, trying to hide the crack in her voice. She knew this was coming, that this couldn’t last forever. Hell, Vanessa said early on that she wasn’t planning to stay, that she loved her makeup job and was only doing this out of necessity. And Brooke understands that. But part of her hoped that the dazzling lights and sparkly costumes and the rustle of bills would keep Vanessa here. Hoped that she herself would keep Vanessa here. They can still have a relationship if they’re not working together, of course, but does Vanessa want that? Maybe she won’t, and Brooke won’t say anything. 

Vanessa nods, tears springing in her eyes. “Yeah. I just … I don’t want to do this anymore. The clients and everything, and the risk of the scam … I just can’t.”

“I understand.” Brooke really does. This job can be hard, and it’s not for everyone. Of course she respects Vanessa’s decision--she loves Vanessa, truly wants her to be happy. 

“There’s something else.” Vanessa stares at her boots, and Brooke’s heart sinks. This is it. Vanessa is going to break up with her. 

Brooke nods. 

“I--I want you to give up the scam.”

“What?”

“Please, Brooke,” Vanessa begs, her eyes pleading. “Last week could have gone so much worse. And what if it happens again, and you get caught? I--I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you.”

Brooke runs a hand through her hair. She’s made more than enough to get by, but how long will it last without the scam if things stay slow? “That’s a lot to give up,” Brooke says quietly.

“I know it is,” Vanessa agrees. “And I know the scam is why my mom is still here and we’re not drowning in debt. It’s why I have this coat, why you have that necklace. But Brooke--it’s not worth it. What if one of the clients gets mad and comes back here and hurts you? What if the police catch on and arrest you? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“But we haven’t gotten caught,” Brooke insists.

Vanessa wipes her eyes. “I know. But it doesn’t mean you never will.”

Brooke considers it, thoughts flying through her mind as Vanessa finishes wiping her tears. 

Brooke likes a thrill. 

Cigarettes were her first thrill, or so she says. She liked the feel of it between her fingers, liked huddling in alleys alone, liked the rush of flicking the lighter and watching the embers glow as the cigarette ignited. She finally quit when she was in the running for principal dancer at the ballet company, nicotine patches up her arm like a tattoo sleeve. 

Ballet was probably her _real_ first, though, if she really thinks about. The anticipation fluttering in her heart as she laced up her pointe shoes, the adrenaline pulsing as she took the stage, the sheer rush of joy when the audience applauded, making the dull aches and hours of practice worth it. 

The scam is her current one, and the thrill is unmatched. She _likes_ it. She likes how her heart speeds up in the seconds just before she pulls them in, when the yes is hovering on their lips. She likes outsmarting the men who treat her like a dumb blonde, treat her like a thing, treat her like nothing at all. She likes counting their bills, likes the gritty feel of them between her fingers, because she won.

It’s a thrill Vanessa is asking her to quit. 

But Brooke looks at Vanessa, eyes shining hopefully, shining with _love_ , and knows she can give it up for her.

For Vanessa, who’s asking her to leave the scam because she cares about Brooke so much she doesn’t want anything to happen to her. Vanessa, who makes Brooke’s heart calm down and settle in her chest, unlike the fierce racing during the scams. Vanessa, with all her love and passion and joy, her bright smiles that make Brooke smile too. 

For Vanessa, Brooke can give up that danger, and she pulls Vanessa into a hug, breathing her in and treasuring her, knowing she’s absolutely everything. 

“Can’t breathe,” Vanessa wheezes, laughing as Brooke releases her. 

“I want to give up the scam,” Brooke says firmly. “You mean so much more to me than that, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Oh, Brooke.” Vanessa returns the hug, holding Brooke tight. “I love you.”

“You … you still love me even if I work here?” Brooke asks incredulously. Working at a strip club was a deal-breaker for all her past relationships--though they never really got to the relationship stage, because no one wanted to be in a relationship with someone that pleased clients all night. But Vanessa is nodding, smiling, grabbing Brooke’s hand in reassurance. 

“Of course I do, Brooke. I love you, okay? I don’t mind at all if you work here, because I know you’ll come home to me every night.”

“I will,” Brooke promises. “And I love you too. I’ve wanted to tell you that for a while, actually.”

Vanessa looks up at her with those warm eyes, the ones Brooke could see from the stage every night. Brooke takes Vanessa's hand and pulls her into a slow dance. Under the moonlight, she leans down to kiss Vanessa, and Brooke knows that Vanessa will always be the right choice. 

\---

_Later_

The stripper is the most beautiful woman Vanessa’s ever seen. 

She simply glides across the stage, hooking a long leg around the pole and pulling herself up with toned arms that flex in the spotlight. Her movements flow perfectly with the music, the song and her body becoming one as she flashes a smile. Every person in the club will think it’s meant for them, but Vanessa knows it’s just for her.

She especially knows it when the woman leaves the stage, sauntering between chairs on her long legs. She drops herself on Vanessa’s lap, bearing into her with striking green eyes that hypnotize Vanessa right on the spot, making her words stick in her throat. 

“Can I take you home tonight?” Vanessa finally asks her. 

Brooke smiles, and Vanessa falls deeper in love. “Absolutely.”


End file.
